


Till the Bitter End

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Mind Control, Patch 6.0: Endwalker Completely Inaccurate Blind Guessing, Patch 6.0: Endwalker Speculation, Zenos is the Sound Theory, Zenos yae Galvus does not have a good time, or perhaps I should say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: It is time for the glorious finale between Zenos and the Warrior of Light.The battle does not go as Zenos had planned.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Till the Bitter End

**Author's Note:**

> A certain group of people have planted the idea of Zenos being controlled by the Sound into my head and it would not leave me alone, so now I'm posting Endwalker fic half a year before Endwalker. 
> 
> If this ends up being even a little bit accurate I will laugh hysterically.

Zenos stands atop the tower, its pulse echoing inside his head, but he barely even notices as he faces his friend. Excitement drums through his chest, accentuated by the searing heat of the flames surrounding them. 

It is time. Finally, _finally_ , it is time. 

“Welcome,“ he calls out. He recalls using the same greeting back in Ala Mhigo, in the Royal Menagerie. It feels as if a lifetime has passed since then. “Welcome, my friend! It pleases me so that you have finally made your way up here.“ 

His friend's useless entourage is with them, regrettably, but it matters very little. Once he unleashes the new power he has obtained, they will falter immediately. Only his friend can hope to stand against him now. As it should be. As it should be… 

“Do you know you aren't in control?“ his friend calls back. 

“Are you trying to confuse me as a stratagem for our grand finale? I must say, it disappoints me tot think you would resort to such techniques—“

“No,“ his friend says. “I mean it quite literally. Fandaniel let slip a few facts about you on the way, and I'm inclined to believe him on this...“ 

Oh, how deeply frustrating. 

“Must you bring this jester up now?“ Zenos asks. “I tired of him long ago. We need not concern ourselves with the likes of him anymore.“ 

“Maybe not, but shouldn't you take this seriously? If you are controlled by someone else, what kind of grand finale can you possibly have?“

Zenos frowns. This all comes out of the blue and makes little sense, but _if_ it is true, then his friend is right, it would not be much of a finale—

—but of course it isn't. It makes no sense. He knows better. He's fully in control of all his actions. He knows this. He knows this. 

“We're not getting through to him,“ one of his friend's followers, the short Elezen girl, said. 

“It was a stretch,“ his friend answered, partially turning around to her. “But worth a try. Let us proceed as planned.“ 

The ringing in Zenos' head nearly drowns out their words until it settles down into a background noise again. “I will bear no delays,“ he calls out before it can start up again. “Come, my friend! It is time to dance!“

And dance they did. His friend advanced on him with sword and shield, white cape fluttering in the heat. Scythe clashes against mighty shield, again and again. Thankfully, his friend's followers do not interfere, seemingly content with standing on the sidelines. A blessing—

—but no, no, he should take them out right away. They do not deserve to watch. It won't take more than a second. He should do it. 

“I'm your opponent,“ his friend says as they bars his path. “It's me you want to fight, is it not?“

They're right. Zenos frowns briefly. It's them he wants to fight, and them alone. What is he doing? 

What isn't he doing? They need to go. He needs to be undisturbed with his friend, so he needs to dispose of them. But he wants to fight… what _is_ he doing? The interlopers need to go. They can't be suffered to live. But they're not even trying to approach, and he wants to fight his friend, but the most important thing is… is taking out the others… 

The ringing is back. 

Torn between two conflicting impulses, he freezes for a second. It feels as if someone is screaming into his ear in anger. 

What is this? What _is_ this? It's his grand finale, this can't be happening—need to take down the interlopers can't waste time on them have to—

His friend easily knocks the scythe from his hands. It clatters to the ground a distance away. 

“You're still fighting it, huh?“ There is something in his friend's voice, something Zenos can hear even through the shrill sound in his ear. Pity. “Hold on just a little longer.“ 

Whatever he decides to do, he needs his scythe. A little bit of clarity returns to his head at the thought. He dives for it—it's not that far, he can make it—but the moment his fingers brush over the handle, two things happen. 

First, the Elezen girl's voice echoes across the tower. “All set!“

Second, ice-cold aether converges around him, pressing in on his head. The ringing grows to a deafening volume. He convulses, clawing at his head, and in a matter of seconds his friend is upon him, but they do not strike him. “I'm sorry,“ they say. Zenos can barely hear them through the infernal noise and the pain. “We don't know what will happen to you after this. You're different from other tempering victims, but we could not find another way to do this.“

Zenos wants to ask what they're doing, what's happening, but the spasming gets worse and he can't get the words out. Something is tearing at his very essence. Hooked claws digging into the inside of his head… Once, well over a decade ago, a hooked arrow had found its way into his flesh. Trying to tear it out by force had felt much like this. Only now it isn't his flesh that tears and rips, but his self. 

Blindly, he grasps for the scythe once again, but before he can grab the handle, whatever terrible force is eating away at him burrows deeper. Stretches his soul even more taut. His back arches painfully. If not for his friend's quick reaction, the back of his head would have smashed against the ground. 

“I'll stay with you until the end, Zenos.“ 

Zenos clings to those words. He doesn't know what's going on, but his friend is still here. They can still have their grand finale. It isn't over yet. It isn't over. Not over not over not over…!

The tearing gets worse and he claws at his head as if trying to free whatever it is that's hurting him so, but his friend takes his hand and pulls it away. Their hand feels warm in his… 

And that is the last thing he notices before something finally _rips_. 

They pick him up afterwards. Drag him down the tower. His feet scrape across the floor as they take turns of slinging him across their shoulders. The staircases crumble underneath them as the flames die down.

“We might not make it in time like this,“ one of them says. 

“We are not leaving him here,“ another answers. 

“If you insist,“ the first one says. “But in that case, you should go on ahead without us. The world needs its Warrior of Light. The rest of us are expendable.“ 

“ _Nobody_ gets left behind today.“ They sling his arm over their shoulder and keep going. 

There's an airship at the bottom of the tower. The hatch opens as they approach. Soon after they enter, the floor and walls begin vibrating, right as they drop him onto a bed and leave him there after strapping him in. 

The ceiling of this room is made of metal, unblemished and gleaming in the light whose source he can not see. The vibrations do not abate. The ones who had carried him down the tower do not return.

An unknown amount of time passes. 

“Apologies for leaving you alone so long,“ a person says. “We ran into difficulties on the way. I was needed, or I would have come to check on you sooner.“ They pull up a chair and sit down next to the bed. “How do you feel?“

They sigh. “I suppose that was to be expected. Beq Lugg warned me that something like this could happen. We'll take care of you while you recover. Don't worry.“ They pull up the blanket covering him. “We'll reach our destination soon, then we can transfer you to a place where you can rest.“ More seconds tick by before they leave. Then they return, others in tow, and pull him onto a stretcher which they then carry out of the ship. Outside is a violet sky with a bright tower shining in the distance. Crystals jut out of rocks. There are scattered bushes. 

They carry him into a city made of stone, and through a set of doors, and then another set of doors. It is darker inside than it was outside. A person greets them and tells them to bring him to a different room, which they do. There is another bed in that room. It's softer than the one he lay on in the airship. The ceiling is different, made of stone and wood instead of metal. 

“Do you need anything?“ a person asks. 

“I don't think there is much of a point in asking him that,“ someone else says. 

“I don't particularly want him to lie here ignored.“

“Point taken.“ 

“Someone will come to give you food and water soon.“

They come and go. People talk to him. Sometimes they drip soup into his mouth. Sometimes they talk to each other. 

“No sign of recovery still?“ 

“None. He does nothing if left to his own devices, and he hardly responds to anything we do.“ 

A sigh. 

“It's not surprising, I suppose. If what Fandaniel said is true, he's been under the Sound's control for his entire life. I can't imagine how intertwined it was with his soul—or how much damage ripping it out has done to him.“

“How did he even resist, at the end? He was acting erratically even before we started the process.“

“I suppose the Sound noticed what you were doing and tried to make him focus on you first, but he wanted that fight so badly being made to step away from it gave him pause, despite everything. Which is probably a good sign. There must be something of him left still...“

They leave again. The light in here is dim. He can hardly see the ceiling. Sometimes they wind up turning his head a little, but the walls aren't any clearer. There is a clock he can see just barely. The clock hands move slowly. 

The person returns at a time when both clockhands are pointing upwards. “I'm sorry I've been away for so long,“ they say. He can't see them until they turn his head to the other side. They look tired. 

“I will have to leave again soon as well—hopefully for the last time. When I return, it will all be over.“ They grimace a little. “One way or the other. I can spare an hour or two, though. I still have hope that spending time with me will help you come back from the brink.“ 

They continue talking for a while, explaining where they are going and what they will be doing. It is the longest they have spoken to him since… since… that.

“It's time now,“ they eventually say. “I don't know how long I will be gone. Maybe by the time I'm back you will have made some progress, hm? Until then.“ They rise and step away from the bed.

_Friend—_

But the fragment of a thought vanishes from the empty expanse that is Zenos' mind just as quickly as it came, leaving him once again with nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.


End file.
